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Page 47
"Beauties; huh?" said the captain.
"Twenty-dollar bills!"
"Yessir; every one of 'em as good as gold; payable to bearer on demand,
says your Uncle Sam."
"An' why are you makin' me envious this way?" said Donovan crossly.
"Donovan, you and me's been friends off an' on these ten years, ever
since th' commodore bought th' _Laura_. Well, says he t' me 'Capt'n,
we forgot that Mr. Donovan was in th' room at th' time o' th'
discovery. Will you be so kind as to impress him with the fact that
this expedition is on the Q.T.? Not that I think he will say anythin',
but you might add these few bits o' paper to his promise not t' speak.'
Says I, 'I'll trust Mr. Donovan.' An' I do. You never broke no
promise yet."
"It pays in the long run," replied Mr. Donovan, vainly endeavoring to
count the bills.
"Well, this 'ere little fortune is yours if you promise to abide by th'
conditions."
"That I keeps my mouth shut."
"An' _not_ open it even to th' Mrs."
Mr. Donovan permitted a doubt to wrinkle his brow. "That'll be a tough
proposition."
"Put th' money in th' bank and say nothin' till you hear from me,"
advised the captain.
"That's a go."
"Then I give you these five nice ones with th' regards o' th'
commodore." The captain stripped each bill and slowly laid it down on
the table for the fear that by some curious circumstance there might be
six.
"One hundred? Capt'n, I'm a--" Mr. Donovan emptied his glass with a
few swift gulps and banged the table. "Two more."
The landlord lowered his paper wearily (would they never let him
alone?) and stepped behind the bar. At the same time Mr. Donovan
folded the bills and stowed them away.
"Not even t' th' Mrs.," he swore. "Here's luck, Capt'n."
"Same t' you; an' don't get drunk this side o' Jersey City."
And with this admonition the captain drank his beer and thumped off for
the water front, satisfied that the village would hear nothing from Mr.
Donovan. Nevertheless, it was shameful to let a hundred go that easy;
twenty would have served. He was about to hail the skiff when he was
accosted by the quiet little man he had recently observed sitting alone
in the corner of Swan's office.
"Pardon, but you are Captain Flanagan of the yacht _Laura_?"
"Yessir," patiently. "But the owner never lets anybody aboard he don't
know, sir."
"I do not desire to come aboard, my Captain. What I wish to know is if
his excellency the admiral is at home."
"His excellency" rather confounded the captain for a moment; but he
came about without "takin' more'n a bucketful," as he afterward
expressed it to Halloran the engineer. "I knew right then he wus a
furriner; I know 'em. They ain't no excellencies in th' navy. But I
tells him that the commodore was snug in his berth up yonder, and with
that he looks to me like I wus a lady. I've seen him in Swan's at
night readin'; allus chasin' butterflies when he sees 'em in the
street." And the captain rounded out this period by touching his
forehead as a subtle hint that in his opinion the foreigner carried no
ballast.
In the intervening time the subject of this light suggestion was
climbing the hill with that tireless resiliant step of one born to
mountains. No task appeared visibly to weary this man. Small as he
was, his bones were as strong and his muscles as stringy as a wolf's.
If the butterfly was worth while he would follow till it fell to his
net or daylight withdrew its support. Never he lost patience, never
his smile faltered, never his mild spectacled eyes wavered. He was a
savant by nature; he was a secret agent by choice. Who knows anything
about rare butterflies appreciates the peril of the pursuit; one never
picks the going and often stumbles. He was a hunter of butterflies by
nature; but he possessed a something more than a mere smattering of
other odd crafts. He was familiar with precious gems, marbles he knew
and cameos; he could point out the weakness in a drawing, the false
effort in a symphony; he was something of mutual interest to every man
and woman he met.
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